Dear Justice Ginsburg,

Hope this letter finds you well, wherever there may be.

My name is Sofia – Brazilian, twenty-four years old, Aries with rising Capricorn, sociologist whose work focuses on tales and dreams.

I never expected to be able to speak to you directly, like this. I am, however, arrogant enough to think you would enjoy the conversation. Maybe this is our chance to talk. Ruth, I’m writing because I need your help.

Your honor, you must know by now that you are amazing. Everything you did for people was incredible and, looking at your work, I find myself in a bit of a pickle: I have no idea how to be like you.

In your years as both lawyer and judge, you proved that one individual can contribute to systemic change. All the time, I find myself wondering how I can do the same.

I am not American, I am not a lawyer, I was recently in the hospital for something far less serious then what kept you there in May and I was unable to work from my hospital bed. Probably, your honor, I am simply not like you. But, perhaps, a little advice could go a long way.

How did you do all you did? Did you ever feel satisfied? How much happiness did you sacrifice during your path?

I wonder, more then ever, how to balance the need for individual growth with the desperation of looking at humanity today and feeling like there is no way forward without action. But which action(s) Ruth? What can a story teller do?

It feels weird to ask you such personal questions when I don’t even know if you are in a position to send a sign. Maybe you are not even here. I like to believe you are, somehow, still here.

Maybe you are guarding democracy like a warrior on the inside of a pyramid, protecting the pharaoh, making sure it could endure the travel and reach the stars. Maybe you are with Marty, the love of your life, watching flowers bloom and feeling the sunshine.

I don’t know where you are, your honor. More than anything, I hope you are happy. It warms my heart to think that, maybe, you still are.

Thanks for reading,

Sofia

Sofia Silveira